and you miss 'em like you miss no other
by CancerTheCrab
Summary: Peter has a hard time trusting people, not to watch his back, but to take care of themselves. When the Goblin is out for blood, he just can't let his team get hurt - even if it means he does instead. Set after Revealed. Peter!Whump, Hurt!Peter, family feels and the return of my nurse/doctor OC's.
1. Chapter 1

Ally and Tyler know that they are just a pair of nurses in the midst of the huge medical team working for SHIELD. But, they get to have a great honor as two superhero fans. A patient that they treat regularly is the one and only Spider-Man, but that isn't the least of it. When they were caring for him, as nurses do, he revealed his secret identity willingly to them. Almost enthusiastically in fact, but it may have been partly due to how he was high off of the morphine he needed for the injuries he sustained.

It was a huge honor to be in his tight-knit circle. Knowing Peter Parker is Spider-Man is amazing for the two of them. Until he gets hurts and complicates their entire week.

Because of how well they took care of Spider-Man - a valuable if not slightly irritating asset for SHIELD - they were assigned as his nurses. Which meant that any time he was wounded enough to need medical assistance as opposed to some ice packs and TLC, he was sent over to them. The good part about it is they got to see an awe-inspiring superhero that was steadily becoming closer to the two nurses almost bi-weekly for a good couple of days. Well, it wasn't good to see him because he was so hurt his accelerated healing wasn't enough, but it was nice to see him recover 100%. But the downside was that he was a terrible patient.

He constantly tried to escape the med bay no matter how injured he was, and as he is an excellent wall-crawler and web-slinger, it was very easy for him to slip out of the room. Often times the only thing that kept him from successfully leaving before he was discharged was another superhero. It helped that he was weakened by whatever wounds he sustained, even if the idea of Pete being injured was a bitter one. So, the two of them love caring for their friend even when he's difficult to keep track of.

Now they were just horrified.

* * *

Spider-Man was wheeled into the med-bay by Dr. Labelle. He had worked on Spidey the last time and knew by heart now how to treat him considering his metabolism and genes, as well as the hero's secret identity. Fury strode down the hall followed by several SHIELD agents. They were quickly followed by the rest of the team SHIELD had put together. White Tiger, Power Man, Iron Fist, and Nova all skid to a halt at the entrance of the med bay. Well, to be accurate, they hobbled quickly. All four of them were banged up, too, but none more than Spider-Man.

Like the others, he was covered in a fine gray powder that was probably cement. Unlike the others, he was unconscious and covered in his own blood, as well as soot. There were huge, jagged tears all over his suit, all of them accompanied by gashes that varied in length, but all of them looked agonizing and gushed blood. There was bruising on all of the skin that wasn't obscured by the hero's blood that promised at least some fractures.

It was bad. Tyler knew this; Ally knew this. The team knew it - they were there when Peter passed out. It could have been any number of things: smoke inhalation, blood loss, or even just from pain. Any or all of them could have taken him down. It was hard to connect the image of Spider-Man, the superhero that could take down all sorts of foes by sheer force of will, and the young man covered in dust and scrapes and ash on the table.

Eric took charge of the situation. "Ally, Tyler, you two will assist me in surgery. Scrub in quickly, I don't want to start any later than we need to." He ordered.

Tyler whipped his head around as he jogged to the OR, trying to assess the damage done to the other teens. Another reason as to why a friendship with Spider-Man was so great is that the nurses were privy to the bond between him and his team, which were all great kids. They were trustworthy enough to know Peter Parker and Spider-Man, through and through. So his worry was tenfold when he saw one of them - Danny - go limp.

He shook it off, though. They would be getting proper treatment at the same time Peter was taken care of, and his job was to make sure the latter was possible.

* * *

"I don't swear much, but holy shit, he really did it this time," Eric said quietly. The surgery was almost over, but it has been intense. Peter almost flatlined once and needed many bags of blood to make up for what he lost. Ally was right when she guessed he had fractured some ribs, and even his collarbone had in total five fractures. His left shoulder had been dislocated and he ran the risk of infection yet again from the debris that had been in his many, many deep cuts. Even with antibiotics, there may have been enough time between the fight and the surgery, so they had to keep an eye on that. Thankfully there wouldn't be any permanent damage to his shoulder and the fractures would heal pretty fast. The doctor wasn't sure if his body would prioritize the gashes or the fractures, but the silver lining was that the fractures were all either hairline or only slightly larger so either way, they would heal quickly. Peter had deep bruising basically all over his body, covering his chest and legs and...virtually everything. His neck and head were miraculously untouched except for some scrapes, a black eye, and a concussion. Another complication could come from the smoke inhalation, but most likely not. His airway was clear and only slightly irritated from the smoke - probably due to his mask filtering most of it out. In general, he had taken a pretty bad beating, but Eric was confident that he would bounce back. Not as quickly as he had from the electrical burns, unfortunately, and he would have to be monitored carefully for at least two days, maybe three. But at least he was okay for visitors, even though he would be unconscious and then high from the pain medicine for a good while.

Ally breathed a sigh of relief. It's could've been worse, much worse. Peter was wheeled into the room the medical team knew was his after the Zzzax-Recovery-Fiasco. The others were properly cared for as she had expected and resting on the couch that Peter had asked for. They were all fast asleep.

Tyler grabbed her hand for a second, letting go quickly as they made sure Peter was comfortable. The gesture was just as much for her as it was for himself. They checked his vitals and adjusted his dosage accordingly, brought in another blanket and tucked him in, and left a cool glass of water for him in case he woke up. It was mostly just precaution in case their calculations were off since Peter was intubated to make sure he got oxygen even with his irritated wind pipe. If he still needed to remain intubated when he woke up, then he wouldn't need the water. Well, he physically couldn't have the water. If they tried to give him a drink he would just drown on dry land.

The thought was almost as off-putting as the sight of him lying in the bed was. He was so thin and lanky, so pale against the white sheets. As a nurse, Ally had always seen kids and adults alike hooked up to machines like the heart monitor and the IV and intubation tubes or a cannula. It was normal, everyday stuff - necessary for patient care. But it hurt to see Peter, kind and gentle and witty Peter, hooked up to all of those machines.

* * *

The plan was perfect. It was genius. To escape the clutches of the med-bay, he just had to bat his eyelashes and ask to be let on a walk. Ty and Ally were busy with their nurse duties and the team was going to come visit in an hour, so he had plenty of time to sneak out. He had to play the part, unfortunately, so the IV stand and the gown are necessary. He knew one of his many, many suits was waiting for him at the entrance. All he had to do was work his way over there and duck into a corner to change. The changing part of the plan was vague, but to be honest the medicine they gave him for the pain was still pretty strong so he was kind of loopy. For the walk they switched to a lighter one and a smaller dosage, so he was feeling the aches more now. At least he'd be able to walk straight. It was pretty impressive how he managed to make such a great plan in this state.

The HQ was pretty quiet. The hallways near the med-bay were always pretty silent so that the patients could rest. And, the nurses might maim anyone that's too loud.

Pain flashed across his side. He sucked in a sharp breath and froze, waiting for it to fade away. His fingers skimmed the gown and felt the bulge of the dressing. The pain ebbed slightly but didn't go away completely. Peter took a careful step forward, but at this point it felt like every gash was pulsing, turning into sharp agony. The more he walked, the more he doubted his ability to get to the other side of the compound.

As Peter turned the corner his left shoulder bumped into the wall. And in that moment, Peter realized that he has fucked up bad. He could feel the stitches popping, and in his mind, he pictured the long and gruesome-looking stitches hidden underneath dressing. The sight of them had made him a bit nauseated, especially considering that they were on his own body.

It took a moment for the pain to register, but when it did his knees buckled. He fell forward onto his knees, his hand scrambling at the IV stand to try and keep him up. Blood was already seeping through the gown. Under the fluorescent lighting and against the white of his gown, his blood was basically on display to anyone who passed by. He could feel it dribbling down his hand. It throbbed mercilessly and his head spun wildly.

"Uh oh, what do we have here? You're not lookin' so good there Spidey."

Peter's vision was already gone by then, but he heard a familiar voice beside him.

"Not that you look disgusting or anything I mean look at that bubble butt-"

He had a good guess as to who it was.

"-But you've kinda got blood all over you and that's not really my kink-"

And that's when Peter passed out.


	2. dandelions and a little self-loathing

**A/N:** Okay...take two...This site is like 10x harder to navigate than I remember...Also, it's in present tense now because I'm a professional and enjoy switching tenses between chapters ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

Peter wakes up slowly among the murmuring of his friends. He's somewhere warm and soft. His mind feels like it's disconnected from his body. Distantly, he's aware of aching everywhere, the distinct discomfort of bruises making itself known. But he's drugged up to his eyeballs; the floatiness is definitely due to a wonderful cocktail of painkillers.

The disorientation of waking up, not really remembering where he is or why he can't remember, is enough to make him panic a little. Usually, when something like this happens, he's in the clutches of one of his many enemies.

Peter meant to spring up from the bed and onto the ceiling, but with the overwhelming sluggishness, all he can do is sit up and snap his eyes open. It isn't exactly the startling display of strength he's hoping for, but someone _does_ scream.

"Jesus!" The high pitch of Sam's voice would be funnier if Peter weren't so deeply uncomfortable. "Why? Why do you feel the need to scare the shit out of me?"

The throbbing all over Peter's body becomes too sharp, forcing him to lie back again. His brow begins to furrow. The fuzziness occupying his mind is making it hard to remember what happened before he ended up in a bed.

His team is quiet as Peter attempts to establish context. He turns his head slowly, observing the room, inspecting it for anything out of the ordinary. It's the same room they usually hold him in for recovery after getting injured serious enough for medical attention. The frequency with which he found himself in this room may be worrying for others, but merely an addition to the routine for Peter.

On the bedside table sits a small and charming basket. It looks cheap but the flowers stuffed in it help improve his mood somewhat. Dandelions curl around each other, bright yellow petals vibrant against the soft brown fibers of the basket. Grass, roots, and a generous amount of dirt clinging to them. It's obvious whoever plucked them wasn't exactly delicate but meant well all the same. Nestled in the flowers are a KitKat bar and a sticky note.

 _Dear Webs,_

 _I ate the Crunch bar because I got hungry. It was really good. I got you flowers so you feel better soon._

 _Love, Deadpool_

Under the note is a little doodle of what seems to be Deadpool and Spider-Man snuggling on a large burrito. The sentiment is nice, but it doesn't clear up the missing block of time at all.

"The last thing I remember," Peter says slowly, face darkening, "Is the goblin."

It comes rushing back far too quickly. The fight, the excruciating pain of being used as a wrecking ball by his friend's _father_ , but most of all, his own incompetence. It's always like this, he supposed. He lets down everyone around him only to wake up patched up, completely unaffected by the consequences of his own actions.

Sliding out of bed, Peter ignores the eyes on him. A part of him is glad that they'll let him walk out of here, but it's dwarfed by the self-loathing and anxiety building in his stomach and chest. He steps into the half bathroom adjacent to the room and shuts the door without a word. By the tiny sink is a change of clothes. When he comes out dressed with a suit snug underneath, the room is empty.

His team is gathered outside. They all have a stormy expression, though the magnitude differs for each person. Sam seems angrier than the rest, obviously upset somehow by Peter's reaction.

"Peter. I know you're struggling—," Ava begins, tone calm but resigned.

"It's fine." Peter doesn't meet her eyes but he tries, he really does, but all he can think of are the bandages they're all sporting. "It's fine. It's fine." He tries to keep his voice steady but his mind hasn't recovered from the painkillers the nurses put him back on. His heart starts to speed up. "No…no it's not, actually."

They reach the main deck as his mood crescendos and Peter makes up his mind. The whole damn ordeal has his blood boiling. The pain racing across his nerves, nudging at his bruises and the stitches on his shoulder, is nothing in the face of his rage. It's not pointed at them – why would it be? It's his fault they're hurt. It always is.

"I'm sorry you were all caught up in this. But I'm not going to let it happen again. I won't let anyone I care about get hurt because of me, not again."

The Helicarrier is easy to escape with his webs ready to form a parachute. It's not so easy to get away from the guilt, but that won't stop Peter from trying.

* * *

 **A/N:** Shorther than I'd like but I'm workin' here guys I'm tryin' so let's hope I can get another chapter out soon!


	3. the soft side of wolves' teeth

The faint ache from Harry's fist is dwarfed completely by the pain infesting the rest of his body. It moves through him like waves, pulsing from his head down to his toes where they curl in the sand. It isn't as bad as the first time the Goblin threw him around, but there's something else this time. Something's off, inside his body, that's making it harder to breathe the longer they stand there. Fury is talking, but Peter just noticed, so he tunes in.

"…Have a SHIELD base on land, obviously. It's discreet…"

Peter blinks slowly. When his eyes slide back open – far slower than he would like – his vision begins to swim. Spikes of pain shoot through his eyes and bounce around his skull and it's making his hearing fuzzier. The area all around Peter's nape is throbbing viciously, pounding like a gong alongside his suddenly overwhelming heartbeat. Audio floats through his ear – quiet and close like someone's whispering to him. It sounds like Danny is trying to talk to him.

When Peter turns his head a couple degrees it's enough to make his legs shift from the dizziness that ripples through him. Danny's eyebrows are probably furrowed behind his mask; the tone of his voice suddenly gets much too stressed. He's stopped talking though, and he looks like he's waiting for Peter to speak. Peter blinks again, just as slowly as before. His tongue unsticks itself from the roof of his mouth.

"…Huh?"

Peter immediately regrets even opening his mouth. His throat constricts, dry and tight, and Peter has to cough forcefully to get any air in. The mask is too stuffy, it covers up his mouth too much, and he can't really breathe anymore, which he allows himself to panic about. Peter shifts again to try and rest his hands on his knees in an attempt to _breathe_ but as soon as he puts pressure on his left wrist, his legs give out. Pain too sharp and too deep to be just bruising envelopes his wrist, but instead of providing a focus, it only amplifies the rest of his injuries.

His lungs are still not completely obeying him but some oxygen gets through, so Peter takes the opportunity to suck in as much air as possible. With air comes the awareness that he's on the ground and that someone rolled his mask up onto his nose. The world falls back into place around him.

"That's it, just breathe," says a familiar voice. It's Eric, and behind him is Ally and Tyler. All three are soaked through their white coats, dripping water everywhere, but their presence instantly calms him. Peter can trust these people with his life. They've saved him before, and he has no doubt that they'll keep him alive after he passes out. "Stay with me, Spidey."

Peter would obey – really, he would – but his head lolls against his will. He's just too tired to keep his eyes on the doctor; instead, they rolled aimlessly in his head, looking up at the sky instead. It's been three days since Peter slept more than a couple hours at a time. And Danny's lap is comfortable enough to fall asleep in.

"We need to get to the base," Eric says. It's the last thing that any of them, Nick Fury included, can understand. Turning to the nurses, the three of them have a rapid-fire conversation consisting only of medical terms and phrases that overall don't sound too good.

"SHIELD agents are coming to transport us. They'll be here soon." Fury's gaze rakes over the huddle of soaked and tired teenagers, making eye contact with all of them. "You did well here today. Rest up, there won't be any missions for a while. We need to regroup."

Slowly, they nod. Ava, Sam, Danny, and Luke take that as the signal to relax. The situation isn't ideal, to say the least, and with their home gone, they can't actually relax. There's sand all over their suits and the breeze that's picking up chills them to the bone. But the four of them gather around Peter, attracted to each other and their downed teammate like magnets, an old instinct telling them to keep him safe. Even though he's perfectly fine in Eric, Ally, and Tyler's care, Peter is _theirs_.

Luke kneels first, the excitement of the day not helping his broken arm heal any faster, and sits back slowly. His shoulder brushes Danny's – the other boy sees the offer and accepts it gratefully, leaning against Luke without shifting Peter. After a beat, Sam crouches down, too, wavering just slightly on the balls of his feet. With one more sweep of the area, Ava carefully folds her legs under her, as graceful as ever.

A second passes before Ava nudges Sam. He tilts and lands without a sound, cushioned by the sand. The entire exchange means more than any words can communicate: _Relax, he'll be okay, you look tense, are you okay?_ Sam answers when he lets his head rest on her shoulder, _I'm fine, just tired_.

This sort of idiosyncrasy can be seen among teams as close as this, though it never ceases to impress any onlookers to see five kids be so close and work the way that they do. None of them are old enough to drink or smoke, they haven't even graduated high school, and yet the complex exchanges show interpersonal relationships beyond their years. It must be something special about those five that allows the dynamic of the team to have formed and developed so strongly. Maybe it's the fact that all of them had the formative years of their teenage life ripped away and turned into something too heavy to hold alone. Being in an environment where the five of them have to count on each other through thick and thin, through tests and bullies and life-or-death situations molded them into more than just a team. Either way, it shows in everything they do. When Eric finally stands, the four of them that are still awake stir, eyes following the man. Only the knowledge that he knows Peter's identity and hasn't done anything with the knowledge allows them to let their hackles down.

A dark, discreet vehicle pulls up where the shore meets the asphalt of the city. It's surrounded by three other vans, all dark and sleek, and a single agent steps out. He nods to Fury. The agents on the beach start to trudge toward the transport, glad to be out of the cold.

Luke clambers to his feet, offering a hand to Ava and Sam. Danny blinks, his hand just barely touching Peter's forehead. He looks up to Luke, who bends down again without question. With one arm immobile in a sling, he can't just scoop up Peter. Sam helps maneuver Peter as carefully as possible into the crook of Luke's arm. The position proves to be a benefit – the rasping wheeze that started up from Peter eases up a bit.

Ava helps Danny stand. With arms brushing and heads drooping, the team makes its way to the van. There are two rows of seats facing each other, four on each side of the van. Inside, Eric has already opened the medical kit. He's kneeling beside some seats; wordlessly, he gestures to them. Luke hesitates to let Peter down. It would be easier to protect him if he's closer to Luke, but he needs to be looked over by a professional. Eyes sharp, Luke slowly sets him down onto the seats, stepping away to give Ally and Tyler space do their job.

As soon as the four teens sit down, the nurses move in, quietly talking to each other and Eric. "You hear that, too, right?" Ally's head was tilted to listen to Peter's breathing. She makes a grabbing motion and a stethoscope is placed in her hand not moments later.

"The wheeze? Yeah, he might have inhaled some water, so—,"

"—We have to look out for lung infections, yes, but his neck feels really tender…"

Eric fishes something else out of the kit. "He's probably been badly bruised, but the biggest concern right now is the concussion he most likely sustained if he was hit hard enough to be knocked out." The two nurses nod in tandem. It seems the three of them are a team of their own, working in such close quarters without stumbling over each other's words, just communicating with rapid-fire exchanges.

Tyler hisses in sympathy. "I think his left wrist is fractured, but it seems stable. The area is starting to swell, so we should get some ice packs for that and—,"

"—And his bruises, I'm on it, but could you try to turn him in case—,"

Eric tosses three ice packs to Ally. "Careful with what you say, you two, we're not alone here." He turns to the teens now, who had immediately tensed at his words. "I don't want to scare you guys. Peter isn't in critical condition, but he's not out of the woods yet. Would you rather I explain?"

Danny seems mesmerized by the efficient work, and to be honest, he's nodding off against Luke's shoulder. The other three are (mostly) awake, and nod.

"I'd like to know what's happening." Ava prompts.

"One, two…" Ally and Tyler swiftly turn Peter onto his side so that he faces away from the team. As soon as they do, the bruises they were talking about are revealed. The skin of his neck and the surrounding area looks like a watercolor painting. Red billows out from the center, and blue tinges the outer edges.

Luke and Sam cringe at the sight. Ava's eyes tighten; Danny remains asleep.

"It's better to keep him on his side so he can breathe easier. Peter might have inhaled some water back in the Helicarrier, so we have to look out for things like pneumonia. Plus, it takes some of the strain off of his neck." As Eric talks, he bundles one of the many blankets the medical kit has stuffed into it under Peter's head. Then, he stands and unfurls another grey blanket over Peter's legs.

It seems that the three of them have done as much as they can for now. Tyler sits against the seats, making sure the two ice packs resting on Peter's nape don't slip with the van's movement. Ally does the same for his left wrist.

Eric hands more blankets to Ava and Luke, who at this point are the only ones still awake. The two of them spread blankets over Danny and Sam and settle in for the ride.

 _Peter slams against the wall of the Helicarrier. Oddly enough, it doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. What hurts more is the blood-curdling scream coming from Harry. Peter looks around frantically, eyes darting around the water to try and find his friend, but all he sees is the hulking figure of Venom. It's blurry and nearly too dark to see but the image still strikes terror into Peter._

 _Something is deeply wrong. Freezing water continues to flood Peter's mouth, filling it with the taste of blood. The currents buffet him – but they work in his favor, and he's now upright, making it easier to breathe. But looking Harry in the eyes, seeing his face melting into the inky darkness of Venom makes the air stick in his throat._

" _No…no, please…Harry…_

"…Harry, _no_ ," Peter's eyes jerk open. His surroundings snap into place, jarring him out of the nightmare. He's in a dimly lit room, not floating dead in the Helicarrier. But that did happen. Harry is Venom. Norman is Green Goblin. These things are true – but he's not dead. Peter's sitting against someone solid and coughing so hard it feels like his lungs are cracking. Tendrils of pain grip his chest and wrap around his neck and wrist. Peter gasps desperately, feeling like a fish out of water, the muscles in his neck working to get air into his trembling body. The sheets covering his legs provide something to ground him as he curls his fingers so tightly the fabric warps.

The seconds tick by. Peter is lightheaded and wishing he was asleep by the time he drags in his first good breath. He thinks the only reason he hasn't actually passed out is because of the oxygen sitting snugly on his face. Peter melts against whoever's holding him up and lets himself be guided back onto the mountain of pillows he must have been resting on before he woke up.

"You're okay, Peter, you're okay…are you with us now?" Luke's voice washes over him. Knowing at least one teammate is near gives him enough motivation to open his eyes.

Peter's eyes slide open. He's grateful that the lights in the room aren't at full power, or else the headache he woke up with would only get worse. Waking up is worth it, he realizes, when he's greeted by not just Luke but the rest of the team, too. Danny sits opposite Luke while Ava lounges on the third and last chair, leaving Sam to lean against the wall. A cup of coffee rests in his hand, but the oxygen mask blocks out the smell.

"Hey, guys," Peter's voice breaks on the second word.

Ava, Danny, Luke, and Sam are all in their civvies. They all look like they could use a good cup of coffee what with the size of the bags under their eyes. But lying in a bed in what must be some SHIELD base, Peter can guess that he doesn't look too fresh himself.

Danny's voice is soft when he asks, "How are you feeling?"

 _How am I feeling?_ Peter's cheeks and eyes are uncomfortably hot. He must have a fever, then, which is why he's trembling so much even under the four grey blankets that pool at his waist. There's a brace on his left wrist—

 _Peter yells into his comm., telling White Tiger to stand down, to stay away from the Helicarrier and Green Goblin. Venom had made an appearance. Water is filling up the corridor they're in, soaking his suit. The Goblin slams down onto Peter's wrist, shattering the comm. and definitely cracking something inside his arm. The water level is almost choking him now—_

"Peter?"

Sucking in a sharp breath to gather himself, Peter blinks and says, "Okay. Tired." After a beat, the combined heat of their glares forced another few of words out. "Crummy, I guess. How're y' doin'?" Having been awake for barely 5 minutes, Peter finds himself reluctant to let the painkillers lull him back to sleep. He wants to stay awake if only to keep tabs on his team for a bit. He misses them after three days of juggling school, patrol, and keeping Harry alive all on his own. Some apologies are to be made.

Ava's eyebrow arches dangerously. But Peter can see the concern flashing in her eyes, unabashed in the quiet companionship and privacy of the room. "You have pneumonia, just in case you were wondering. Your wrist will be fine."

"Plus a concussion," Sam continues.

"And a whole lot of bruises." Luke finishes, arms crossed. "By the way – don't fucking do that again, alright? Scared the hell out of…Sam," Sam yelped at that, "And me. Everyone, basically."

Peter hums quietly, though it crackles and stings his throat. His eyelids are getting heavier, sliding down halfway, and the fuzziness in his head making it easy to doze off. The discomfort in his throat, his wrist, and the back of his neck are becoming muffled. The pillows behind him are cushioning him nicely.

"Sorry." It's whispered and the oxygen mask doesn't make it any clearer, but the atmosphere goes from tense to _them_. Ava's face softens and Sam's shoulders melt. It's the same safe cocoon they find themselves in when it's just the five of them. Danny can nap, relaxed in the presence of his closest friends. But they're more than that – it's obvious the way Luke can lean back in his chair, tip his head back, and start snoring softly in the blink of an eye. It's the way Sam nudges Ava with his hip, and she scoots over immediately, allowing him to wedge himself into the chair with her, limbs fitting into the limited space with practiced ease. If anyone else were in the room, Danny would never stretch his long legs over Ava and Sam's laps, pillowing his head on his arms right by Peter's hip. The five of them call it a team – others might call it a pack. It doesn't matter to them; the relationship is simple in their eyes. It developed over the time they've shared and will continue to grow stronger as they go. Every moment they spend surrounding _their_ Peter while he recovers only serves to push them closer to each other.


End file.
